Red House Blues Read online

  “Trouble is, sweetie, you have an expectation disconnect. I’m no expert on normal but I’d say you’re like a wild bird that envies the caged birds their endless supply of birdseed. Ask anybody if their lives are safe and secure. I’m willing to bet you nobody’s going to tell you yes. The life you think you want doesn’t exist.”

  “That isn’t very comforting right now. At this point I’d settle for a life that doesn’t include abandonment and murder.”

  Claire reached across the table and clasped Suzan’s good hand.

  “It’s not your fault, sweetie. None of this is your fault. You did the best you could.”

  “I wish people would stop saying that. I know you mean well, Claire, but it’s not true. At some point Sean started wanting something else from our marriage while I just blindly continued to slap paint on paper, oblivious to his needs. I had the power to save him but I didn’t.”

  “We grow up, Suze. Everybody changes. Whatever happened wasn’t your responsibility alone. You can’t control everything in the world.”

  “I should have known what was going on with him. I thought I knew him so well but there he was disintegrating and I didn’t have a clue. I slept next to him every night and all along he was somewhere else. I was somewhere else too. And even after I found the drugs, did I talk to him? Not me. I just had him hauled away so I wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

  “You got him into the system. You got him into detox. That was the point. What more could you have done, Suze?”

  She didn’t answer for a second. She had been going over that question in her mind since Sean walked out but still had no answer.

  “At the time I really did think what I did was for his own good, Claire. Now, I’m not sure. Maybe I just didn’t want to think about it. He said I betrayed him. I’m so afraid he had a point, that I destroyed our marriage.”

  “I doubt that, but you are destroying the moment. And if you don’t eat that last slice of pizza you’ll be destroying my diet because I’ll have to finish it.”

  “Can’t you take this seriously? You are supposed to be my friend.”

  “You’re having a good old wallow, but this isn’t just about you. You know that. How do you think Tony feels? His best friend vanishes without a word, and now this. Don’t you think he’s grieving too? My Tony can fix any broken program but he can’t fix this. And I’m trying to hold him together, and you together. And it’s pissing me off,” said Claire. “Now, Tony’s waiting for us to bring him some pizza so what say we get you out of here and bed you down on my couch for the night. Tomorrow morning over bagels and cream cheese we’ll sort out your life. That’s soon enough.”

  “If you start singing something from ‘Annie’ you’ll be wearing that last slice of pizza,” said Suzan. “Your positive attitude is so irritating I could scream. Wish I knew your secret, a steady diet of bagels and cream cheese?”

  “That and congenital insanity. Or the double lattes I can’t seem to get enough of. Who knows? Come on, we’re out of here.”

  * * *

  Tony Gabriola logged out and shut down the last of the lab’s computers, and threw his day-end report in the desk drawer. He checked the restroom to make sure he didn’t have a leftover student still hanging around. Knowing that no one would hang around the lab if they didn’t have to unless they were hiding out from someplace worse. Or had just pulled a double shift in the lab rather than go home. Tony could have turned James down when he asked him to sub for the evening. He knew there was no reason James couldn’t have toughed it out with some cold meds and a pot of coffee. But here he was, dragging his feet like the coward he knew deep down he was. Now he had no option left, no excuses. He turned off the overhead lights, and locked up the lab.

  It had been quite awhile since he used to rush home to Claire, whip up some dinner for the two of them, hold her in his arms as if his life depended on her being there with him in their small rented house off campus. Jerk! If only I hadn’t asked her to marry me. But no. I had to ruin everything. If only I‘d kept my big stupid mouth shut. The drizzle that had obscured Bellingham Bay was evolving into a gritty sleet threatening to turn the dark walk down the hill into a tunnel of black ice. As black as Tony’s thoughts. He zipped his jacket higher, wishing he’d worn better shoes and a hat. He’d escaped the house - and Claire - this morning with no thought to weather reports.

  In the middle of his cup of coffee and bowl of Shredded Wheat, Claire asked him if she could use the car. No, that’s wrong. She said she was taking the car. So that she could spirit good old Suzan Pike off for an afternoon at Bellisfair Mall. He asked Claire what was wrong with calling Suzan first to make sure she was home, planning something for later in the week maybe. “You must be kidding,” she said. “Suze’s been hiding in the art department since the cops came. If I ask she’ll just say no. I’m going over there and pry her out for some lunch. If she’s not there I’ll head for campus and track her down there. If I can just get her out, the female shopping hormones ought to kick in. I swear she hasn’t had a good time since Sean left.”

  But then I had to open my mouth, thought Tony. As usual. “And what about us, Claire? Are we ever going to have a good time again? It’s nonstop poor old Suzan and her endless sniveling. I never see you anymore now that you work weekends, and when I do see you you’re off to see Suzan. It’s like you’re avoiding me since I mentioned marriage.”

  “Please back off on this, Tony, okay? I can’t think about that right now. Not with my new promotion and Suzan’s problems - and yes, Suzan’s problems are important to me. She’s my friend, remember? She used to be your friend too. And as to sniveling, what’s that you’ve been doing for almost two years? It’s not that I don’t understand. For a year you’d go sleepless wondering where Sean disappeared to, why he didn’t tell you where he was going, whether he was still alive. And now you know for sure he isn’t and it’s no better, is it? Neither one of us is going to make it all go away.”

  “Okay, I was out of line. But I’m tired of you running off to Suzan at every whimper. I want it to be you and me again.”

  “Marriage wouldn’t fix anything,” said Claire. “It didn’t help Suzan and Sean stick together did it? A piece of paper doesn’t create a solid relationship. All it would do is make me feel trapped. I won’t be bought and paid for and then taken for granted. Three times I saw my mom go that route, and three times it didn’t last as long as the reception bills.”

  There was no arguing with her. He wanted to tell her that she was not her slut of a mother, and he wasn’t some beat-up drunk she hauled home from a bar. He’d grabbed his jacket and left before he said something she’d never forgive, figuring the wet walk up the hill to campus might be just what he needed anyway.

  But as soon as the sun set the rain transformed into ice pellets. Now Tony faced the treacherous half-mile slide home in the dark. And when he got there what would he find but Suzan probably weeping and wailing half the night on Claire’s shoulder. He didn’t know how long he could stick it out with Claire at this rate.

  The sidewalk was already white with sleet so he moved off to the verge where the grass provided some traction. His shoes weren’t up to the weather. Should have worn his old Doc Martins but he hadn’t been paying any attention to the weather, what with fuming about Claire playing guardian angel to Suzan and resenting that Claire had the day off while he had to work. He deserved frostbite, he supposed. Ice insinuated itself down his collar and into his thin high tops. Martyrdom. The nobility of suffering. His Catholic boyhood slithered down his spine with the ice particles. Predictable how it always came back to him when he felt the worst, when he ached to suffer for his supposed sins. Even a blizzard wouldn’t be enough for him.

  When he got to the house he was relieved that the Ford was in the drive, covered with a thin layer of sleet. They’d gotten back safely at least. When he let himself in he could smell hot chocolate coming from the kitchen. Claire waiting up for him. Light coming from the door show
ed just enough of the living room that Tony made out a mound of comforters on the couch. Suzan, asleep.

  He knew if he went to the kitchen he’d be expected to apologize, be understanding. Ask how Suzan was doing. Thank Claire for the hot chocolate. He wasn’t up for any of it. Walked upstairs, knowing she could hear the anger still in his footsteps. Glad. It would take more than a cup of cocoa. She could sit down there in the kitchen and think about her priorities.

  The chill he had felt wasn’t all due to the weather but as he stood under the hot shower some of it loosened its grip on his bones. Still, he wasn’t ready to contend with Claire. Tony turned off the water and got out of the shower. The mirror was thoroughly steamed over and that was fine. He didn’t think he wanted to see himself any more than see her.

  Dressed in a pair of striped flannel pajamas his mother gave him last Christmas, he got into bed and turned out the bedside lamp. Then thought better of faking sleep and turned the lamp back on. It was a childish impulse to hide under the covers. That would give her the upper hand.

  A few minutes later Claire came upstairs. “I made hot chocolate for you,” she said as she undressed.

  “I know. Sorry. I had to get a shower”

  “Want me to get you a cup. It’s probably still hot.”

  “No, thanks.”

  She rummaged in the dresser drawer for a nightgown. Something warm. It would be a cold night.

  “Tony, I couldn’t leave her,” she said, turning toward him. “You can understand that. They gave her a bunch of pain pills. She shouldn’t be alone.”

  Shivering, she pulled on a blue floral sleep shirt. It wouldn’t be warm enough but it was better than nothing.

  “Sure. It’s okay, Claire. Really.”

  “No, it isn’t. You don’t want her here. So, what am I supposed to do? Your attitude is not fair and it’s not like you.”

  “I said it was okay. And fair doesn’t have much to do with any of this, Claire. Was Suzan fair to Sean? Was it fair that some asshole ran him down like a dog? What’s fair? Is it fair I come home in freezing rain and find that bitch on our couch?”

  Claire came around the far side of the bed and slid between the bedding, being careful not to touch him.

  “I’ll take her home first thing in the morning,” said Claire, softly to the back of his head, and turned out the bedside lamp.

  He didn’t respond. Everything had been said. And he didn’t feel very noble or justified or righteous. He felt like he wanted to hurt someone. He wanted it to be Suzan but Claire would do. Knowing that turned his stomach. But there it was.

  Chapter 4

  Claire had Suzan up, dressed and out of the house before Tony awoke. She had promised her pancakes at the IHOP though Suzan swore all she wanted was a cup of coffee. Still, since Suzan was no more eager to see Tony than he was to see her the two women were soon on their way.

  During the night wet snow had glazed the streets with gray slush. Claire eased the Ford slowly across town to the restaurant, where they shared an order of French toast and drank coffee in relative silence. Suzan didn’t have to ask how things had gone with Tony. Claire’s usual breezy good cheer was conspicuously missing.

  After a subdued breakfast they drove to Suzan’s apartment. Claire parked the car on what she hoped was the parking strip but with a layer of snow covering the ground she couldn't be sure she wasn’t up on the sidewalk. Suzan searched her purse for the key as Claire slogged to the passenger side to help her with the door.

  “Can’t find my key,” she said.

  “No problem. Remember, I have my copy. Yours is probably on the bloody counter. We’ll find it when we start cleaning up.”

  “Wish I didn’t have to go back in there.”

  “It’s a mess, I know. But it’ll be okay, Suze. Let’s just get it done.”

  Suzan hesitated in the sloppy snow. Iced over, the rose arbor at the side of the house was a bare snarly barbed tunnel. It was like a throat lined with black teeth. She didn’t know if she had the courage to walk down the narrow passage between the board fence and the house to the basement apartment she and Sean had shared. For the last two years she had returned every day from campus to their apartment expecting to find that he had come home. This morning, that hope forever dashed, she felt as if she were teetering into an abyss. Claire took her arm and led her toward the door.

  A few steps on, Claire’s feet went out from under her and she sat down hard in the slush nearly dragging Suzan after her.

  “Damn!”

  “You okay, Claire?” said Suzan extending her remaining usable hand.

  “We are quite a pair aren’t we.”

  “Did you hurt anything?”

  “Nothing the nice doctors at St. Joseph’s could splint,” said Claire, struggling to her feet. “Hey, that’s weird, did we put the porch light on when we left yesterday?”

  Suzan looked up. The porch light glowed through the gloom.

  “I didn’t turn it on. I was bleeding, remember? Mrs. B. probably turned it on.”

  Ever since Sean disappeared, their landlady had taken a maternal interest in Suzan’s welfare, an interest she didn’t always appreciate. Mrs. Bloomquist wasn’t above letting herself into the apartment to leave mail or tuna casserole on the table. Suzan hated tuna casserole. Still, it was the thought that counted and it was sweet of Mrs. B. to take an interest. And she supposed there was a certain comfort in knowing someone was as keeping an eye on things.

  “Sure, that’s probably it,” said Claire, linking her arm with Suzan’s. “Better get you inside.”

  She unlocked the door and reached around the doorjamb for the foyer light switch.

  “Oh my God,” said Suzan, as she stepped through the door behind Claire.

  “Now, this is interesting. These definitely weren’t here when we left.” said Claire, pointing to the two FedEx boxes in the center of the floor, one about the size of an ottoman. It was the second box that had Suzan’s attention.

  She clamped her hand over her mouth, tears stinging her eyes, knowing immediately by its long rectangular shape what it contained. She didn’t have to see the shipping labels to know the boxes were from Seattle. An iron band tightened around her chest.

  “It’s Sean’s guitar. It’s all his things.”

  “You don’t have to deal with it right now, Suze. Let me just move them to the closet.”

  “This sucks.”

  “Yeah, it does. Come on, sweetie, let me get you a cup of tea or something.”

  “No, it’s okay, Claire. I guess it had to happen sooner or later,” said Suzan. “It’s just that I thought I had more time to get used to the idea, start to move on. How I hate that phrase and here I am using it.”

  “The timing could be better, that’s for sure.”

  “It’s as if he won’t leave me in peace. The bastard walked out and never looked back. What did he want me to do, run after him begging? I should have turned over every rock looking for him?”

  “You did the best you could,” said Claire.

  “That’s not what Tony thinks and you know it. He thinks I should have tried harder to find him. What the hell was I supposed to do, run to the police every week asking for news like Tony did? If Sean had wanted to come back he would have.”

  “I don’t have any answers, Suzan. How would I know? Maybe if . . . this thing hadn’t happened to him he would have come back. ”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

  “So, do you want me to put these boxes away for you?”

  “No. I might as well get it over with and open them. I couldn’t stand having them in the closet like a monster waiting to leap out. After we go through them I can throw all of it in the garbage and be done with it.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure. You got any scissors I could use for the tape?”

  “In the kitchen somewhere. I think in the drawer to the left of the sink. Could you bring me a kitchen chair too, Claire, my knees are still kind of wobbly
.”

  “Got a better idea. Let’s do this by the couch. I’ll drag the boxes and you can put your feet up.”

  Suzan shrugged out from under her damp coat and lowered herself to the couch. Her hand was starting to throb. Maybe I should have asked her to bring me a glass of water. Need more Vicodin. Lots and lots more. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut until her lashes ached. In the next room Claire was slamming drawers and cabinet doors. If she can’t find the scissors we can forget the whole thing.

  “This was the only thing I found,” said Claire, returning to the living room. “Sorry. I did wash it off first.”

  Suzan opened her eyes. Claire was brandishing the boning knife that had sliced through her hand.

  “Very funny.”

  “Which do you want to open first?”

  “The guitar, I think. What could be in the other box but his clothes? And who’d ship that kind of thing anyway?” She shuddered. It gave her the creeps to think of sorting through Sean’s old clothes.

  “Maybe somebody thought you’d like them for keepsakes. Who knows?”

  She ignored the unspoken criticism.

  “Yeah, who knows? People get a lot of weird notions,” she said.

  Such as that I would care what’s in these boxes from a period of Sean’s life he didn’t care to share with me. Even this infernal guitar was more a part of him than I was. Not a thing here has anything to do with me.

  Claire opened the long box and pulled out the guitar case, setting it beside the couch, then turned her attention to the other box.

  How Sean had loved that guitar, thought Suzan. He bought it from a guy stationed on Whidbey Island who had bought it from a friend on the coast. Against all her arguments he scraped together every bit of money they had set aside and bought it. Supposedly it had once belonged to Kurt Cobain when he lived in Aberdeen. Probably nothing but a lie to jack the price up, but Sean believed it. There had been times Suzan wanted to smash the thing into kindling. She wanted to smash it now, throw it back into the FedEx box, take it to the back yard and burn it. She crouched before it, where it rested in its case next to Sean’s brown chair.